


way to a man's heart

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Cooking, Domestic Derek, Domesticity, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hand Feeding, M/M, Spoon-Feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While visiting Stiles' apartment Derek learns he's not eating well and sets out to rectify the situation. </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Leave it to Derek to get all mother hen the moment he stepped foot in Stiles’ new apartment. Not that his concerns were completely unfounded. Stiles had been surviving on a steady diet consisting of ramen and Mountain Dew for weeks. He was a college student after all. <em></em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	way to a man's heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xamberry](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=xamberry).



> For the ❄ prompt: 107. "Have you been eating well?"
> 
> [Send me a prompt!](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)

“Have you been eating well?”

Stiles snorted as he hung their coats in the closet. Leave it to Derek to get all mother hen the moment he stepped foot in Stiles’ new apartment. Not that his concerns were completely unfounded. Stiles had been surviving on a steady diet consisting of ramen and Mountain Dew for weeks. He was a college student after all. 

“Hey, I know I’m skinny but I’m not  _ that _ skinny,” he teased back, closing the closet door and leading Derek to the living room slash bedroom, waving an arm to encourage him to take a seat. 

“I didn’t― That’s not what I meant,” Derek forced out gruffly. He looked so disgruntled, forehead furrowed as he wrestled with his words, that Stiles couldn’t help but laugh and playfully slap him on the shoulder.

“I gotcha, big guy. I gotcha. I’ve been eating just fine,” Stiles placated. Heaving a sigh, Derek tossed a skeptical glance at the small kitchenette, raising a brow in silent question at the empty counter and cabinets. “Okay, so I mostly just use the microwave and those takeout menus but― Uh, I’m not really helping my case right now, am I?”

“No,” Derek answered deadpan. He strode into the kitchenette, eyes critically sweeping over the ancient rusted oven, the dated linoleum tile counters, the battered wood cabinets. He swung the refrigerator door open to inspect its meager contents: a twelve pack of soda and cartons of leftover Chinese takeout Stiles had been meaning to toss. Stiles winced, waiting for Derek’s harsh judgement and scathing criticism. Instead, Derek straightened, gently closed the refrigerator door and turned back to Stiles. After a moment he walked out of the kitchenette and towards the front door, Stiles jogging after him.

“Wait! You just got here! What’s the rush?” Stiles asked once they’d gotten to the closet where Derek pulled out his jacket, slipping it back on over his shoulders. 

Reaching back into the closet he pulled Stiles’ red hoodie from its hook and handed it to him, with a succinct, “We’re going out.” 

“Uh, sure. Okay,” Stiles said, hastily pulling on his hoodie and zipping it up to his chin, following Derek out the door.

Derek ended up driving them to the closest grocery store. He grabbed a cart and started leading Stiles through the store. He grabbed a wide array of fruits and vegetables, discreetly sniffing them to gauge their ripeness before gently placing them in the cart. When Stiles physically balked at the price tag on a pack of filet mignon, cringing and vehemently shaking his head, Derek rolled his eyes and tossed the meat into the cart. After picking up some fresh chicken breast and pork chops, organic eggs and cheese, a gallon of milk, a bottle of red wine too rich for Stiles’ blood, and a tub of Stiles’ favorite Ben and Jerry’s, Derek made a beeline for the checkout line.

Stiles’ heart rate skyrocketed as he watched the total ratchet up and up. He fumbled with his wallet, trying to access whether or not he had enough money to cover the purchase. Derek simply waved him off and swiped his credit card before loading the cart with all their bags and politely bidding the cashier a nice night. 

The ride back to the apartment was silent, Stiles too busy thinking to chatter on about anything. When they arrived back at the apartment, they quickly ferried the bags upstairs, unpacking them just as swiftly, filling Stiles’ fridge and cabinets with enough food to last him a month. Stiles collapsed on the couch, panting dramatically, thoroughly winded from climbing up and down two flights of stairs with heavy bags of groceries several times. 

Derek smirked, pausing a moment to watch his heaving chest, before getting started on dinner. He began pan searing the filet mignon, chopping potatoes to roast, and getting stalks of asparagus ready to be steamed. The moment the smell of the steak reached him, Stiles’ head popped up as he peered over the edge of the couch at Derek. Incredulously, he asked, “Dude, are you making me dinner?”

Derek just nodded, smiling wryly as he focused on finishing the balsamic glaze for the steak and asparagus. Once he was done, he carried out two plates with healthy servings of meat and vegetables to the coffee table and poured them each of a glass of wine in the only cups Stiles had ― superhero themed mugs. When Stiles raised his eyebrows at the wine, Derek huffed out a soft laugh and sternly instructed, “Don’t tell your dad.”

Stiles raised his palms and smirked before taking a long sip from his Iron Man mug, flicking the TV on. The steak was some of the best he’d ever had, tender and juicy and seasoned perfectly. He moaned loudly around the first bite, noticing that Derek seemed to falter when he heard the sound, almost dropping his own fork. 

After finishing his meal, Stiles leaned back heavily against the back of the couch, rubbing at his belly in satisfaction, smiling lazily.

“Save any room for ice cream?” Derek asked, stacking the empty plates and carrying them to the sink to soak.

“Always!” Stiles called, smiling widely as he heard Derek open the freezer door. He straightened up when he saw Derek return with the tub of Chubby Hubby and two spoons. Derek took seat right next to Stiles on the couch, peeling the top off and handing it to Stiles to let him lick the inside of the lid, Stiles cooing, “Aww, you’re so good to me!”

They ate together in companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, spoons clanking against one another as they light-heartedly fought out the chocolate covered pretzels. Soon Stiles was leaning his cheek against Derek’s shoulder, eyes slipping halfway shut, too lazy to feed himself but gratefully accepting the spoonfuls of ice cream Derek offered him. Turning his head slightly to look at Derek, cheeks grazing against each other, Stiles found Derek gazing down at him, looking calmer and more peaceful than he had ever seen. Tentatively, he reached up to lay his hand on Derek’s stubbled cheek, feeling the rough scruff against the pads of his fingers. 

Softly, he whispered, “If-If I’m reading this wrong...just tell me, okay?”

Derek inhaled swiftly but said nothing. Stiles leaned closer, gently pressing a featherlight kiss to Derek’s lips. When there was no resistance or complaint from Derek, Stiles pressed a second longer kiss to his lips. Then a third. And a fourth. Then he simply continued kissing him, not bothering to break the kiss save to greedily drag in lungfuls of air. Derek eagerly returned the kiss, gingerly cupping Stiles’ cheek, ice cream completely forgotten. 


End file.
